Guardian (10 page)

“Hotels are pricey, and the money’s better spent on a new dead bolt and security system,” her practical grandma said, tearing off a paper towel and patting Sophie’s hand dry.

“I agree, but I want to be sure. This break-in has me rattled. I would have worried less if he’d stolen things, or come in while I was asleep.” Sophie looked around her house she’d fought so hard to keep so her son would be in the best and safest neighborhood. Not that the place had been all that safe tonight. “But the timing seemed so perfectly targeted for when I would be gone.”

“Then I imagine we should all be extra careful about
double-bolting the doors, keeping a cell phone nearby, watching for anyone acting suspicious. With luck, though, the police will come up with something on those fingerprints and we’ll have answers by tomorrow.”

Her grandmother sounded so confident all would be well. She looked at Nanny’s silver braid and thought of all the times she’d crawled onto her grandmother’s lap as a child. Her earliest memories were of clutching that braid and tickling her chin with the end until she drifted off to sleep.

Such a simple solution to chasing away monsters in the night. But she wasn’t a child anymore.

Sophie smoothed a hand over Nanny’s coiled braid. “Are you okay? I wouldn’t dare refer to your age, but this has been a stressful night.”

Nanny grinned, riffling through the contents of a first aid kit. “I’m not moving so slowly I missed seeing what a nice-looking young man that major is.”

This kind of help she did not need. Nanny would have out the
Bride
magazines if Sophie wasn’t careful. “I’ve told you before. No matchmaking. I am not interested in Major Berg.”

Nanny snorted while working loose another splinter.

“Okay, so I’m interested in him.” She breathed in and out. Hard. A lingering hint of his aftershave sent a fresh shower of sparks through her. “But I’m not ready for a relationship. I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for anything serious again.”

Nanny released Sophie’s hand and grasped her chin. “You were a good wife to Lowell. You loved him. You mourned your husband’s death. Now it’s time for you to move forward.”

Sophie wanted to believe her but knew better. “You didn’t, after grandpa died.”

“No one pushed me.” Nanny’s grip pinched. “As much as I love you and Brice, you can’t take the place of having someone, a man, to share my life with. I don’t want to let the same happen to you.”

What was it with the men in her family checking out early? Why couldn’t any of them stick around long enough for gray hairs?

Thoughts of skimming her fingers over the flecks of silver at David’s temples caught her when she was too vulnerable to duck.

Nanny pulled two coffee mugs from the hooks under the cabinet. “Maybe you could just have an affair with him. He does have a damn fine backside.”

If only life were that simple. Sophie clapped a hand over her forehead. “I am not going to discuss that man’s butt with my grandmother.”

“Your grandfather had quite a nice backside.”

“Too much information.” She held up a hand. “Conversation over. I need to catch at least a couple hours’ sleep before I head into work.”

The sobering stakes of the trial grounded her again. Winning her case would send one of his friends to jail and put a professional black mark on David’s record. This wasn’t the time to fantasize. Real life was about harsh realities.

And her reality? She couldn’t afford the distraction of David Berg, but she’d closed off her life from so many people since her husband had died, she wasn’t sure who else to turn to for help.

*    *    *

David’s footsteps echoed in the cavernous airplane hangar.

Metal beams formed a skeleton overhead, the whole hangar gaping, like walking through the belly of a whale. A busy belly.

Aircraft mechanics crawled over a spindly gray Predator drone—unmanned craft. Three military maintenance guys in camo and two civilian contractors wearing coveralls worked to install a new camera system with upgraded sensors to record ground intelligence. The craft was cracked open—pieces of skin peeled back as they worked to wedge replacement pieces in there.

Work stands lined the walls with pieces of the project laid out. Master Sergeant Mason “Smooth” Randolph hummed along to the radio as he shaved a circular piece down with a metal grinder to make it fit, smooth-eyed the piece, then vaulted back up onto the nose of the Predator.

David itched to jump right in. The familiarity soaked into his pores, revving him up and soothing him all at once. He loved his job, the thrill of flying the latest gadgets in the military inventory, the mental challenge of creating new technology, testing and tweaking until it could be rolled out.

When it came to toys, his squadron’s rivaled those of James Bond and Batman.

The better the technology, the smaller the human footprint in a deployment. Test projects made a hefty dent in the defense budget, but big picture? What it saved couldn’t be quantified—relationships salvaged, thanks to fewer deployments.

Lives saved by placing fewer people in harm’s way.

And all he had to do to make that happen? Strap his butt into an aircraft no one had flown before. And his squadron didn’t just test new airplanes—like the hypersonic jet a couple of hangars over. They also tested
modifications to aircraft already in the inventory—such as the gun turret modification on the AC-130.

He’d even been in on the development of unmanned spy craft the size of insects. Remote control flying those surveillance peepers to gather intelligence was a blast.

And the squadron wasn’t just about pilots but navigators, sensor operators, gunners, and loadmasters—all the different crew positions. They were all aviators, all called to figure out new ways to cheat the laws of gravity.

In the air force, he was a navigator even though he had a civilian pilot’s license, a rating that was tough as hell to find time to keep current, given the demands of his present job overseeing three different test projects at once.

He knew his time here was drawing to a close. He couldn’t keep the kind of hours needed or weeks on the road to other testing ranges across the country. But he’d wanted to leave on his terms, not with this horrific screwup hanging over his head. The thought of that kid injured, a child who would spend the rest of his life with a limp and scar.

Not to mention the horror of being shot when he should have been safest—asleep in his home.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

Sitting on the Predator’s nose, Smooth waved. “Morning, Major. You’re in early. Did you bring coffee?”

David forced a smile. “Coffee and doughnuts, on their way.”

Subcontractor Keith Nelson barked, “Can we cut the chitchat, girls, and get back to work?”

The old guy had a chip on his shoulder about flunking the physical to join the air force. He was an ass, no question, but a detail-oriented ass who was good at his job. Nothing got by him.

Smooth jumped to the ground. “Any more news on Tate? The trial? Gage and Deluca said you really tore it up in the courtroom the other day. Fed that JAG her lunch.”

“Lawyers,” Nelson sneered. “Fuck ’em. They always screw everything up, nitpicking every contract and document to pieces like we have a decade to waste waiting for them to process everything. How are we supposed to defend ourselves if whenever we come under attack, we have to consult the attorneys before we can even crank an engine?”

Smooth laughed. “Don’t let the lawyers hear you say that.”

Nelson scowled. “It’s not like they’re around to hear us.” He checked over his shoulder. “Are they?”

More laughter bounced around like a football kicked into the rafters, and David wished he felt like joining in. “Coffee and doughnuts will be showing up shortly, just make sure you send some to us so we don’t fall asleep in the teleconference.”

He would be joined for that boring telecom by Jimmy “Hotwire” Gage, Vince “Vapor” Deluca, and Mason “Smooth” Randolph. They had been on his crew in the old days when he flew the tests rather than ran tests. They’d been through a lot together, and now they were the old guys.

Smooth hopped off the nose again and jogged over. “Everything okay, sir?”

“Sure. Why?”

“You just look tired.”

“Neighbor had a break-in and I went over. Everyone’s okay.” He didn’t know why he withheld just who that neighbor was. “Have you heard anything from Tate?”

Smooth and Tate had been hanging out lately since Randolph’s wife was overseas for six months as a contract police force. “Part of him wants to return to flying as soon as possible. Another part of him is freaking out that the accident was his fault, and if you put him in the cockpit again…”

Some sentences didn’t need to be completed.

“That’s a damn heavy load to be carrying.” David clapped Smooth on the shoulder as he left.

They needed to get this trial behind them for a lot of reasons. Where the hell was the evidence to clear Caleb Tate?

For the first time since he’d walked into that courtroom two days ago, his world steadied and he knew exactly what should happen. Rather than working against each other, he needed to work
with
Sophie Campbell. Starting at the close of business today, he had a whole weekend to work on finding those answers once and for all.

*    *    *

Slider was pissed.

The break-in at Sophie Campbell’s didn’t seem to have rattled her in the least. Even though she had to have been up all night, she’d been steadier than ever in court today. Crisp. Driven.

Sexy.

He wove through the cars in the parking lot, searching for hers. He just wished he could have been there to see her face when she realized someone broke into her house while her son was there. He’d paid a Vegas street junkie a couple hundred bucks to break in. The edge of how badly that
could
have gone for Sophie and her family added a bigger jolt than if he’d been the one jimmying
the door. Besides, he had to be certain he was not anywhere near the house when the B and E occurred.

Clearly, he would have to keep the heat coming.

Checking around the lot, he saw plenty of foot traffic, so no one would think anything of him being here. But no sign of Sophie coming out yet. Kneeling next to her sedan, he let air out of her tire with a slow hiss. Not enough air for her to notice, but enough for the tire to blow out on her half-hour trip home. Sometimes the simple tricks worked better than the fanciest technology.

And if she actually died in the accident?

Then the trial would have to start over, and he would have the time he needed to redirect the fallout from that accident. To be sure that when they pinned blame, there would be no questions. No trial.

Game over.

*    *    *

TGIF didn’t even come close to describing how relieved Sophie was to see the end of this day. Stepping outside of the building that housed the military proceedings, she put her hat on, squinting against the sun.

Aside from being exhausted from no sleep, thanks to the break-in, she’d found today’s court experience had been especially draining. The little boy injured in the accident had been in the gallery with his parents and, God, but it broke her heart in half every time she turned around and saw them. The Vasquez family had stayed away for the most part, not wanting to further traumatize their son, and she could understand that. But all the players also needed to stay focused on how damn important this case was.

She stepped back for the Vasquezes to come through
so they could speak outside, away from the packed halls and stuffy formality. Only six years old, Ricky struggled to handle the crutches, but he didn’t give up. His shattered leg was in a cast. The uneven thump as he made his way outside broke her heart all over again.

He still faced two more surgeries. Doctors weren’t sure if he would walk without a limp, or if he would be able to run, to play sports.

His parents stood on either side of him, Ricky’s father speaking up first. “Major Campbell, we cannot thank you enough for all you are doing to get justice for Ricky.”

“It’s my job, Dr. Vasquez.” Although doing her job would clear the way for more lawsuits. If only people did the right thing without being forced by the justice system.

Ricky’s father was a music professor at a local university. His wife had taught in the same department but quit her job to be with her son through his rehab from the injury. They were struggling to make ends meet with their income cut in half and their child facing so many operations.

Mrs. Vasquez squeezed Sophie’s arm. “Your job did not include you coming to our house a half dozen times so Ricky wouldn’t have to answer deposition questions in a frightening office setting.”

“Whatever I can do to make this easier for you. We all just want answers.”

“Mrs. Campbell?” Ricky tugged the edge of her service blues jacket.

His mother put a hand on his shoulder. “Sweetie, her name is
Major
Campbell.”

“It’s okay.” She knelt in front of him. “You can call me Sophie.”

His wide, dark eyes stared back at her earnestly. “I drew you a picture, Major Sophie.”

“Thank you, Ricky.” She took the paper from his tiny hand. “I’ll put it on the refrigerator at my house, right next to a picture my son drew for me in art class.”

She looked down at the crayon drawing—and struggled not to gasp. It wasn’t just some childish scribble of a playground or dinosaurs like her son would have made at the same age. Ricky had depicted his house with an airplane overhead and a large flash of light exploding outside his window. A fierce determination scoured through her. She
would
make sure this little boy got justice.

“Thank you,” she repeated, sliding the picture carefully into her briefcase. She patted his face gently, then stood, shaking hands with his parents. She watched them walk away, her mind racing with thoughts, even though her exhausted body shouted for her to call an end to this day.

“Sophie?”

David’s voice reached through her fog and jolted her.

Stirred her
.

She pivoted on her heel sharply and found him standing a few feet to the side, looking tall and invincible in his flight suit.